


Leaving the Lair

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following 'The Serpents Lair' :  What happens after they get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving the Lair

**Author's Note:**

> Another oldie - previously posted online, July 1999

 

 

He hadn’t really thought that he would make it over there, never mind manage to haul himself inside. When somehow he had managed, though, he hadn’t actually expected to ever wake up. After all, he didn’t know how long it would take or what it was, exactly, that determined how long it should take. He just knew, with the one small corner of his conscious mind that was still alert enough to even comprehend yet alone produce rational thought, that he was pretty much out of time.

A grinding noise; obscure peripheral movement. Vaguely, his sensory-motor perception told him that he was sitting upright. Daniel was unsure for a moment if he was just beginning or if he was finished… if he was getting in, or getting out. Fortunately the disorientation passed quickly. Of course, the blessed absence of tortuous pain helped a lot in clearing up that particular bit of confusion. A tentative shrug of his left shoulder told him that it was in fact still there and in reasonable working condition. A quick glance at his surroundings confirmed that -- obviously -- he hadn’t blown up. At least, not yet. _Get out… there’s no time._ Pulling himself from the sarcophagus, Daniel remembered the C4 he had planted on the far side of the pillar support for the Goa’uld ship’s navigational controls.

Getting there, he read the timer with alarm. Under two minutes… he’d never make it.

The blur of Daniel’s mind exceeded that of his pumping legs as he dashed to the cargo hold, to the Stargate. God... he hoped they were now in orbit. He can’t dial Earth, that was a given... Bursting into the room, not even aware of discarding his weapon, he caught sight of the huge silver ball suspended in the centre of the Stargate. Oh, crap. Well, he’d just have to ignore it, just have to hope that it wouldn’t interfere with the functioning of the ’gate.

With a flash of insight, he knew where he had to go. Willing his memory to cooperate, he struggled to call up the symbols he had only half paid attention to during that earlier trip down the other Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole… the alternate reality which had led him here to this waking nightmare. The genesis list; in the alternate reality they had tried to send people through the Stargate to a colony site, the beta site.

The beta site… what had they designated it? Right, P3X94. He had it now, the glyphs were there in his mind. His full attention on dialing the unfamiliar address, Daniel wasn’t aware of the new danger until it was almost upon him. Just as he punched the seventh glyph, Daniel heard and felt a new presence behind him. Buried under the loud echo of the revolving Stargate ring was a gutteral sound which turned his knees to jelly. It sounded like… like, him?

His head started to turn, his hand hesitating for a split second, just long enough for his common sense to start screaming at him… _no time, there’s no time_ … _go faster_ … _get the hell out of here!_ Slapping his hand furiously down onto the centre crystal of the DHD, Daniel turned his full attention back to the Stargate. The erupting vortex caught the silver communication device, obliterating it instantly. Even as the vortex was barely fully extended Daniel launched himself toward the Stargate, and as he did so he heard a howl of outrage from behind him… from immediately behind him.

Not even daring to turn his head he plunged ahead, following the now receeding disturbance -- within a finger’s breadth of touching it -- toward the Stargate. He had to catch himself for a split second to allow the vortex to settle into a stable event horizon, and just as he moved ahead again to breach it he felt a great force hit him from behind. The alarming impact similtaneously stole his breath away and propelled him forward. Vaguely aware of a tight ache in his back he twisted as he entered the wormhole, trying to look behind him.

 

* * *

 

The tightly controlled mass uncertainty on the P3X94 side of the Stargate abruptly degenerated into full fledged mass confusion with the sudden and ungainly arrival of Dr. Daniel Jackson. Thirty-some-odd of the Earth’s best and brightest, somewhat flustered and bewildered by their most recent experience, expected only the shaky emergence of another small contingent of yet more of the best and brightest through this latest activation of the Stargate. As the shimmer settled, a small group of them moved cautiously toward the stone dias to receive the new additions.

Shooting sideways out of the upper half of the wormhole at top speed, all four limbs pinwheeling frantically, Daniel was completely unaware of the astonished onlookers collected at the bottom of the dias steps. That is, until he struck them. The forward momentum from the unwelcome assist he had received on the other side of the Stargate resulted in him being propelled far out past the edge of the dias platform on P3X94. He hit the second to last step with sickening force, striking his head on the sharp edge of stone, and bounced right into the center of his welcoming committee.

Six of Earth’s designated last hope were unceremoniously bowled off their feet, landing in a shrieking tangle of arms and legs in the hard packed dirt which surrounded the Stargate dias. Winded, his head pounding in concert with his accelerated heartbeat, Daniel lay in their midst face up, eyes closed. He knew he should get up and reassure them, help them to their own feet, but he just… he really needed a moment.

 

* * *

_"Dr Jackson! Was SG1 on one of those Goa’uld ships?"_

_"Uhhh… Yes."_

Days worth of anxiety tempered the sudden relief General Hammond felt at the sight of Dr. Daniel Jackson striding down the ramp telling him that yes, SG1 had been aboard the Goa’uld vessel. Telling him that he had returned via the alpha site Stargate on P3X49. The young man was clearly excited and more than just a litle shaky, and after a moment it was all too clear that he was also… _alone_.

"Where are the rest of SG1?" Daniel’s expression changed abruptly; his eyes growing impossibly wide as all colour leached out of his face. Swaying on legs suddenly unwilling to offer any further support, he reached out to the General. Fighting the rising panic which threatened to choke him, Daniel forced himself to give voice to his fear. "The ships… did they… are they gone?" Seeing the affirmation in the General’s eyes before he even heard the words, both Daniel’s legs and his tolerance gave out entirely. Blacking out, he folded to the ground all but taking the General with him to the ramp.

As he gently lowered Jackson, Hammond noticed the condition of the young man’s jacket under the grip of his right hand. The material was strangely stiff under his fingers, even as it felt faintly damp. His eyes narrowed with concern. Blood, drying… a lot of it, some still alarmingly sticky. Pulling on the jacket slightly, a gaping hole, extending from the point of the left shoulder angling down to the right across the entire left side of the chest, became readily evident.

With mounting concern General Hammond pulled back on the jacket further. While he was shocked to find that the tear extended through not only the vest and jacket but right through the black t-shirt below, he was also perplexed. Underneath all that exterior damage, the skin was unblemished.

Smaller hands appeared, and he was aware of Dr. Fraiser next to him. "Let me see him…"

"Dr. Fraiser. He just… passed out. There doesn’t seem to be any injury here. I don’t understand. Look at his jacket." Janet Fraiser turned a puzzled look toward him as she began her intial assessment.

Reassured by the strong carotid pulse and regular breathing, she sat back on her heels for a moment. "This is indicative of significant blood loss. I don’t understand, either." Gently she pried open an eyelid, the action eliciting a soft moan from her patient. "Well… he’s already rousing. Let’s just get him to the infirmary." Taking a swift look around the embarkation room, she decided not to even ask about the others.

 

* * *

 

"He seems all right, Sir. At least, physically there’s nothing overly alarming… he has a bruise on his upper back and he had a rough ride through the Stargate to the alpha site; apparently, he landed on his head. There may be a slight concussion, and he’s generally stiff and sore. Other than that there are no signs of physical injury at all." Janet Fraiser snapped closed the folder she carried. "That’s due to the sarcophagus."

Hammond looked up sharply. "What? A sarcophagus? Like Hathor’s?"

"Yes, exactly. Daniel said he was struck by an energy blast from a staff weapon. He made his way to a sarcophagus which was on the ship. Judging from the damage to his clothing…" Janet pulled a jacket and vest from the plastic biohazard bag she had brought with her to the briefing room, and laid them out on the conference table. "…it must have been incredibly destructive." The Doctor indicated an area of the jacket. "The edges of the rip are charred… see, especially here, and here? There’s actually a huge chunk of fabric entirely missing -- probably burnt away -- right over the upper chest area, here."

Another article of clothing appeared from within the bag. "The t-shirt is the same." They surveyed the remnants of the black t-shirt. The entire front was saturated with dried blood, as was most of the left arm and front of the outer jacket. "General, Daniel says he doesn’t think he even had ten minutes in the sarcophagus…. this is amazing. The healing powers are beyond belief."

_‘Beyond belief.’_ That pretty much said it all. Hammond scrubbed a sweaty hand across his face. Jackson, returning from a mysterious absence on P3X233 with a bizarre tale of alternate realities; the unpleasant confrontation with Kinsey and precipitous closure of the SGC Project; then, the unauthorised departure of SG1, followed closely by the ominous appearance of two large unidentified bodies hurtling through the solar system.

After P3X233, he hadn’t for one moment believed Jackson; had thought him delusional. Had it not been for the dismal outcome of the meeting with Senator Kinsey… Hammond snorted softly to himself, recalling how he had intended to pull Daniel off active duty pending a full psychological assessment.

He recalled his own earlier comment, made to Harriman when the Goa’uld ships had been sighted approaching Earth, that Dr. Jackson was lucky not to have to witness the Goa’uld attack on Earth; lucky not to have to re-live the earlier nightmare of P3X233. Hammond understood now that he had been mistaken about the ‘lucky’ part.

In going through the Stargate to the mysterious coordinates he had come by in his alternate reality experience, Jackson had embarked upon what Hammond considered to be a desperate search for an uncertain truth. It was a search which Hammond had thought to be ill-founded. With a stab of guilt, Hammond thought about how very wrong he had been. The young man had indeed found his truth; the evidence of it lay in shreds on the table before him, and lucky was not an appropriate word to apply to such a revelation.

To Hammond, the torn and bloodied clothing on the table represented much more that what had to have been a very painful and, normally, an ultimately lethal physical injury. He recognized them as silent testament to an appalling chronology of events. Hammond’s face darkened; without a doubt there were things here that the sarcophagus didn’t -- couldn’t possibly -- heal.

"Is Dr. Jackson still in the infirmary, Doctor?" The worried look the Doctor gave General Hammond confirmed that she shared his concern. "Yes. I gave him a mild sedative. I’d like to hold him in the infirmary for a while. Sarcophagus or not, he obviously suffered a major injury and… Sir, there’s something else he’s trying to cope with..."

Janet was very hesitant. She didn’t quite know how to broach the subject of the rest of SG1. Daniel was convinced they were gone, and it was killing him. Being the bearer of such bad news was the last thing she wanted for herself, but certainly she couldn’t leave it to Daniel, and the General needed to know. "General… it’s, well, about the others…"

She was surprised to see the General’s features lighten considerably. "I only just heard, Doctor." A grin lit up his face. "They are on their way home as we speak. They made it; the shuttle picked them up." Turning to the table he banged his fist on the surface, the grin broadening as he saw her incredulity. "They made it!"

Her own relief blunted by the knowledge of what Daniel was going through, Janet grabbed Hammond by the shirt sleeve and positively dragged him along with her. "Tell me about it on the way."

 

* * *

 

Ativan or not, coping was impossible. His heart had been ripped right out of his chest. It was flopping around somewhere on the other side of the room, still attached by a wildly pulsating thread which yanked incessantly at him, making his chest feel both painfully empty and full to bursting at the same time.

The ships had exploded, both of them. A small part of him prayed that there had been a second Stargate on Apophis’ ship and that his friends had realized what being in Earth’s orbit meant; that they’d been able to ’gate out to somewhere. Daniel knew, though, that he was fooling himself, that there was no way that there had been a Stargate on the other ship, because he had _heard_ … had _seen_ …

Hadn’t he? He really wasn’t sure now, after the fact and with his head feeling as if it, too, was about to explode, that there had been anything there at all. All he knew for certain was that in addition to the wrench of the loss of his friends, there was something else gnawing at the edges of his mind… something very unpleasant. Despite that he was sitting here on Earth, his Earth, and it was safe, he felt as if it had all gone wrong. If he had seen what he thought he had… God. _Jack. Sam. Teal’c_.

If it had in fact been Apophis who had followed him into the gateroom on Klorel’s ship, then Daniel knew there was no hope for his friends. No second Stargate. No Nox, no implanted false memories, no reprieves this time. They were dead; irretrievably gone. The spasms in Daniel’s chest grew to exceed even the pounding in his head, becoming excruciating. Jack had given him a job. He was to watch their backs, and standing out in the corridor on Klorel’s ship he had tried to focus on the elusive feeling that perhaps there was a way they could get out of there alive. But then the Jaffa came, shooting at him and he had failed; he hadn’t been up to the task and had gotten himself blown away …

… and in the disembodied clarity which accompanied the decision that he was to die alone, in the instant before he suddenly understood the opportunity that lay within their grasp, Jack had touched him with impossible regret and was gone. The good die, while the demons… Oh God. He had been so stupid. He had killed his friends.

 

* * *

 

Janet Fraiser and General Hammond stopped in the doorway to the infirmary, held motionless at the sight of the man before them. The picture was one of desperate distress, made all the more intense by it’s contrast with the new lightness of their own mood. Daniel sat on the edge of the near gurney, impossibly rigid, eyes staring but unseeing. The effort being given to maintaining control in the face of staggering grief was readily evident. Janet felt her eyes sting. "Oh, Daniel." So very softly spoken, her words were more for herself than him. She started forward, but was held back by a hand on her arm.

"No, Doctor. This is my job. This is my responsibility." Cold apprehension mingled with feelings of guilt and compassion. Hammond knew that he wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, at dealing with raw emotion, but he owed it to this man before him to try. And, at least the news he was about to deliver was positive. As he approached, Hammond was not surprised to find Dr. Fraiser right at his side.

"Dr. Jackson…" Pained blue eyes flitted in his direction, and just as quickly moved off again.

"Son…" An ever so slight tilt of the head away from him; a tacit dismissal.

Hammond tried again. "Son, I know how you must be feeling, but I have some good news…" The only response was a tightening of the shoulder under his hand. Hammond recognized it for what it was, self-protective rejection of hope.

Grasping the young man firmly at both shoulders, Hammond gently turned Daniel to fully face him. "They made it. They were just picked up by the Endeavour… Son, they’re alive, and they’re coming home."

His words were met by a cold blue stare. "That’s impossible." The denial was all but a whisper.

Oh my, oh _dear_. Janet knew just how loud it would be when this balloon popped. Stepping in, she placed her hands on Daniel’s face. "It’s true, Daniel. They got out in time. They got out in the gliders." She was rewarded with a flicker of interest, a dilation of the pupils of his eyes.

It only took a moment. "Gliders!" The word burst out of him. "The gliders! Of course! Oh my God…" Then he was up, hugging her wildly, turning to Hammond with a thousand unspoken questions on his face. He opened his mouth to ask them, but nothing came out. Janet saw it happening, and took a step back just as the man exploded.

"God! Stupid, stupid! They could have _died_ …" The hospital gurney took the worst of the physical abuse. Hammond and Fraiser could only look on as Daniel vented his frustration, releasing in a torrent all of the desperate urgency which had possessed him since the accident on P3X233... finally, letting go.

 

* * *

 

This time, the sedative could do it’s job. Safely huddled against the raised back of the hospital gurney, the immediacy of the last several days softened by two additonal doses of Ativan, Daniel was able to repress self-recrimination and to attend to what he was being told. They were okay, coming home. He listened as Hammond explained that the shuttle had located the two damaged gliders only moments after the explosions, and that the Goa’uld shuttle pilot communication devices had allowed his friends to identify themselves to the crew of the Endeavour. They would transfer to an Air Force transport plane once the shuttle was down, and would be flown back to Colorado.

As it happened, Daniel had no questions after all. What could he say that mattered? What he didn’t know now, he’d find out later. It really didn’t matter. Silently, he listened. It was only when he noted the sympathetic look on the General’s face that he realized that he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to miss them come home.

Hammond understood the struggle. "It’s all right, Son. Get some rest. They won’t be back for hours." He started to turn away but aborted the movement, staying at Daniel’s bedside.

Daniel raised his still pounding head to look at the older man. "I’m really sorry." He flapped a hand in the air between them. "All of this couldn’t have been easy for you either... and, I, I know that… I know what… uh, you’re military." At Hammond’s raised eyebrows, Daniel tried again to apologize for his earlier outburst. "You’re military, like Jack. I know how you feel about me. You think I’m, I’m kind of… flaky."

The noise the General made was a cross between supressed laughter and a snort of derision. "No. I don’t think that… why would you say that?" Then it was Hammond’s turn to be looking at a set of raised eyebrows. "Okay, well. All right, if you want the truth, sometimes you go way too fast for me, son. You confuse me."

"Oh…" Daniel’s voice was so very soft, "I don’t think you’re confused." He paused, not really sure that he needed Hammond to answer to the question he was about to ask. With all of his talk of unbelievable alternate realities and now the tantrum he had just had, Daniel felt that the General was being benevolent; the man must think him totally mentally incompetent by now. "Why are you still here? I know about Jack, Sam, and Teal’c now, so, why are you still here?"

There was a pause, a vague shuffling as Hammond uncharacteristically fidgeted, collecting himself. His words came out slowly, measured. "I’m still here because I owe you an apology. I didn’t believe you; I didn’t support you." After a few seconds of thought, he continued. "I just want you to know that just because I’m your C.O., that I’m military, it doesn’t mean that I can’t learn to accept what I don’t understand."

He fixed his gaze squarely onto Daniel’s face. "I’m not unfeeling. And I’m not stupid either. I saw your jacket. I can only imagine what you went through." He raised a hand to forestall the interruption which, knowing Jackson, was sure to come. "Miracle healing or not, you took a pretty good shot. You should be dead, son, and I don’t know another single soul who’s still around to say what it feels like to suffer a fatal wound."

The look on the young man’s face clearly said that this was something which he had no intention of thinking about right now. His apology and concern delivered, General Hammond awkwardly clasped Daniel’s shoulder. "Get some sleep. I promise, I’ll come and wake you myself before they get back." Walking away, he looked back to deliver a final, stern, message. "And son, the only thing you have permission to feel guilty about is that you thoroughly terrified a whole bunch of already frightened people on P3X94."

 

* * *

 

An eternity of reunion hugs, pumping handshakes and general celebration later, standing back in the briefing room with a very much alive Jack O’Neill at his side, Hammond felt the pressure of the last several days finally begin to fade. As he watched O’Neill finger the decimated clothing which still lay on the table, Hammond allowed himself the luxury of a smile. Certainly, there were consequences yet to be dealt with -- the emotional aftermath for SG1 being not the least of them -- but the worst was over. SG1 was safe, the cities of Earth bustled with life, and the Stargate Project had earned reinstatement. The smile broadened.

"Is there something amusing about, this?" Distressed brown eyes seeking to bore a hole through the General, Jack O’Neill indicated the shocking evidence of his friend’s trauma.

The redirect was sobering. The grin dropping from his lips, Hammond shook his head. "No, Colonel, obviously not." He moved to the table, perched on it’s edge, and absently picked up the t-shirt. His tone was casual. "You know, Dr. Jackson thinks he let you all down."

"What?" An incredulous voice broke in. Sam Carter stood at the top of the stairs at the entrance to the room, Teal’c by her side. "It’s only because of him that this place is still standing."

They walked toward the two men. "Oh Christ..." Sam’s voice broke off as she noticed what Hammond was holding.

O’Neill turned to face her, his hands raised at chest height in a defensive posture. "Carter… "

"Is that, are those…" she approached and reached out at the jacket and vest laying on the table, almost but not quite bringing herself to touch them. "Oh Sir."

Sam was shocked at what she was seeing. Greeting Daniel in the embarkation room had been wonderful. She hadn’t given much thought to anything else but that he was there with them. When Jack had re-entered the room on Klorel’s ship and told them that Daniel was staying behind, she knew that Daniel had been hit and had assumed that he had been killed. She had thought Daniel to be dead already, and she had not expected to survive, herself.

In their drive to destroy the Goa’uld ships there had been no time to mourn. That had started later, in the shuttle and on the plane flight back to Colorado. Each of them, herself, O’Neill, and Teal’c, had privately and silently paid homage, their relief at their own survival dampened by grief, by the memory of who they had lost. Upon seeing Daniel in the embarkation room upon their return to the SGC, that weight had lifted. He had survived along with them and she had given little thought to how or why… but now, now as she faced the startling and graphic evidence of his brush with death, she felt a sharp pang of guilt at her earlier willingness to write him off as dead.

With an effort she tore her gaze away from the clothing and stared at the Colonel. A narrow-eyed, piercing look. "Sir. He was alive. He was still alive."

Teal’c spared her a quick glance. However totally inane Carter’s comment -- of course Daniel Jackson had still been alive, else he would not be here with them now -- Teal’c believed he understood the meaning and emotion behind it. O’Neill had not told them of Daniel Jackson’s condition, only that he was not to accompany them further. They had assumed him irretrievable. Teal’c also felt that which Captain Carter’s words evidenced… a certain regret and shame at having assumed, without question, their friend to be lost. At having left him, wounded and suffering, to his own devices.

Jack knew what she was saying, as well. He had thought there was no hope, but he had been wrong. Daniel was here with them now. But how much had he suffered in order to get here?

"Ya think?" As flippant as they were, the words were full of raw grief.

"I, I didn’t know it… it was this bad." Carter fingered the edges of the hole in the jacket, her touch tentative, almost reverent.

Memories of his friend as he lay dying, a gaping bloody hole in his chest, the wound still smoking, flooded Jack’s mind. He closed his eyes. "For crying out loud, Carter. He was all but dead. How much not that bad could it have been!"

It was Teal’c who responded, demonstrating notable insight into his C.O. "There is no fault to be had here, O’Neill. What we all feel is regret, and that is misplaced. Daniel Jackson is alive, we are alive, and the people of this planet are alive."

Hammond was relieved to see slight, however hesitant, nods of agreement on the part of O’Neill and Carter. "You all did what you had to do, people. Actually, I was hoping to speak with you three about what went on." He indicated the clothing. "I’m glad you showed up here now, without Dr. Jackson…."

"Where is he?"

Sam and Teal’c reassured Jack with slight smiles. "Uhh, he’s in the washroom, Sir. It seems he’s having some trouble digesting Makepiece’s special cola punch…"

Jack’s expression was pained. "Whoa. Ya mean he actually tried that? Geez, smart enough to survive alternate realities and save the Earth, but he drinks that crap? The man’s crazy."

"Yeah well, never again." Daniel rounded the corner into the briefing room, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Walking further into the room, Daniel’s gaze fell upon what was on the table. He turned on General Hammond, shocked, sudden anger flashing in his eyes. "And I’m crazy? What the hell are you doing?"

Jack pre-empted any reply the General would have made. "I’ve seen it before, Daniel. Remember?"

"We have not." Teal’c rounded on Daniel, Sam at his side. "Why does this upset you so? From what do you seek to protect us?"

For Daniel, the clothing was evidence of his weakness, a reminder of his inability to hold up his end in battle and of the unbearable truth that he had not been smart enough to save his friends, only himself. No amount of relief and joy at his team’s survival could ever make him forget that failure.

Daniel’s expression was hard, cold. "From me."

Hammond groaned inwardly. Daniel looked pointedly at Hammond, before turning his attention to O’Neill. "Jack, I figured it out… after I was hit, I knew how to get out, but you …"

Daniel shook his head in anger. "…I figured out that you guys could escape through the Stargate. Once the ships were in orbit, you could use Earth as the point of origin. But… I , I sent you away… I should have known sooner, should have been able to tell you. If you guys had died, it would have been all my fault."

The stunned silence was finally broken by O’Neill. "You really are crazy. The crap you come up with sometimes…"

"Jack. Come on. Look at me. I’m here, right? So, it was possible get out alive, all along."

Sam understood what Daniel was concerned about. "Daniel, we did survive. Look, _we_ gave up on you. God, I didn’t even think to ask if you were even still alive! If you didn’t have time to tell us how we could escape, it wasn’t because of anything _you_ did."

O’Neill snatched up the jacket and thrust it out toward his young friend. "What do you think… you think you’re the only one who should have a brain around here? I left you there to die. I didn’t think once about the sarcophagus."

"You had no choice. There wasn’t time."

"What? Sixty seconds to haul you in there? I should have made time."

"No. You’re wrong. You had to get to…"

"Daniel Jackson. You are in fact here. You just said so yourself." Teal’c turned to O’Neill. "I believe that had one of us made time to deliver him to the sarcophagus, he would have been able to inform us of how we might escape."

"That’s second-guessing, Teal’c. That’s not realistic…" Daniel protested.

To Jack, this conversation seemed to be going nowhere, especially nowhere near the central issue of Daniel having been left alone to die. Anger at himself bursting through, Jack abruptly threw the jacket in Daniel’s direction. "How long did it take you to, _what_ , Daniel… how did you do it? Crawl?"

Reflexively Daniel caught it, flinching as his hands came into contact with fabric stiff with dried blood. Daniel was beginning to get flustered. "No, No… kind of, well, slither actually… No, I mean, you had to go to the other ship. But, you didn’t think of it, anyway, so you couldn’t have helped."

General Hammond stepped between Jack and Daniel, and while he placed a gentle hand on Daniel’s shoulder, he made it clear he was addressing all four of them. "I understand what it’s like to think that a friend died for you. It happened to me once; I lost two good men and walked out without a scratch. I know the guilt that comes with that."

Four winces, as four pairs of eyes lowered to gaze at the floor. ‘Ah, there’s the rub.’ Hammond realized that they all shared that particular guilt and pain right now, and that they all lived with that fear every time they went through the Stargate. As sad as that was it was also heartening; Hammond knew that with SG1 what was shared, the good and the bad, became their greatest strength.

"I thought you were delusional, Dr. Jackson. And you, you didn’t think of the Stargate in time to tell your team. And they didn’t know you could be saved."

Hammond gathered up the jacket from Daniel. "There’s no patent on guilt, children."

The crinkle which appeared around O’Neill’s eyes was met with an abashed look from Daniel. Giving silent thanks, Hammond gathered up the vest, jacket and black t-shirt and turned to the four friends.

"Who wants to light the first match?"

 

 

 


End file.
